Monday, May 25, 2015

The Muse Party Blogfest

Today I'm going to a shindig hosted by Sarah Foster at The Faux Fountain Pen. Grab your muse and join the fun!

Me: “Hi Sarah. Wow, what a party! No, that’s not a bum stalking me. It’s my muse, Clyde Beauredgard. He, uh, doesn’t get out much. Sorry about the stench. Clyde, couldn’t you have at least put on something clean? You smell like trout.”

Clyde: “Well, sor-ry! Maybe you should’ve left me back at my fishing hole, Sunshine. You ain’t exactly wearing haute couture, is you now? Ain’t those the same jeans you wore the past three days? With another “Life is Good” t-shirt? Damn, is that number 20 or 21? I seem to have lost count.”

Me (after stomping on Clyde’s foot): “Say hi to our host, Clyde.”

Clyde (tipping his filthy fishing cap): “Ma’am. I heard you like names and seeing we're at a party at all . . ."

Me: "Oh no. Please don't."

Clyde (chanting): "Sarah, Sarah, bo-Barah, banana-fana, fo-Farah, me-my-mo-Marah, Sarah!"

Me: "Dude, that is so last month!"

Clyde (sneering at me): "Says you. I brought a little something for your par-tay, Ms. Foster. A little family recipe called Kraft Surprise.”

Me (holding my nose): “I told you to leave that in the car.”

Clyde: “What? The casserole? Calm down, Petunia. It’s just Mac and Cheese with a little Spam mixed in!”

Me: “Not that, you idiot! I meant that keg of stink in your other hand, the homemade brew you must of strained through your socks!

Clyde: “Well, fine. I’ll jest hide this in Ms. Foster’s fridge, but if anyone steals it—”

Me: “That will be the last thing they ever do. Literally.”

Clyde: “Well at least I’m not some uptight, never-tasted-a-beer Betty like some people.”

Me: “Zip it.”

Clyde (adopting the snide tone of a haughty waiter): “Want a lemon wedge in your water, Ma-dam? Or maybe some green tea with ginger flakes, you flake.”

Me: “Excuse me, Clyde. I’m going to go say hi to the Ninja Captain. Try not to embarrass me.”

Clyde: “Yeah, you do that. And be sure and ask Alex if those Kargrandes of his are actually starfish or octopuses . . . Octopi? Octopodes? Whatever. Are they just some sea urchins on steroids? Inquiring minds want to know. Maybe I’ll go talk to that purdy lady over there about the tornado outbreak of ’84. Don’t she like disasters?”

Me: “Probably not the human kind, Clyde, so leave Chrys alone. She doesn’t need to hear about you driving your truck into a tree and blaming it on the wind.”

Clyde: “Fine. Then I’ll just stand here and listen to this sad excuse for music and try not to puke.”

Me: “You think anything recorded after 1978 is garbage.”

Clyde: “Sweetheart, I’ve got two words for you: Milli Vanilli. Stuff that in your 34B.”

Me (giving Clyde the look of death): “Watch it, Mister. Maybe the karaoke machine will have some Beatles for you.”

Clyde: “The Beatles? Please. Give me some Doors, some Hendrix, The Who. Now that’s music. Forget that karaoke sh--, I mean stuff. Let’s have some real fun.”

Me: “I’m afraid to ask.”

Clyde: “Relax, Junebug. I was just going to suggest charades. Jeez, what did you think I was going to say?”

Me: “Strip poker?”

Clyde: “Eww. Now who’s being crude? I’d sooner shimmy to that skinny chic, what’s her name? Taylor Swuft? Shake it? Yeah. I’d sooner put a lampshade on my head, coconuts on my tits, a grass skirt on my bum, and table dance to that ear-slop than play strip poker!”

Me: “And now I have that image in my head. Check please!”

Clyde (starting to boogie): “Loosen up, Lettie. This parties just getting’ started! Who-hoo! Isn’t this better than sittin’ around, thinkin’ up your sad excuses for stories?”

Me (burying my head in my hands): “Kill me now.”


What can I say? Clyde’s a real charmer. This fellow grew up in Honea Path, SC, back when color TV was a big deal. His mom was first a schoolteacher and later principal of Whitehall Elementary, his father was in the armed services, and his older brother Dillan, or Dill, used to (in his words, not mine) beat the piss out of him until he outgrew the son-of-a-BLEEP.

Me: “Really, Clyde? I’m bringing a bar of soap next time.”

Clyde: “Well, you’re the one who said I wasn’t housebroken! Just livin’ up to my hype, Harriet.”

Me: “I can’t take you anywhere.”

The Fisherman

Image Courtesy: Håkon Iversen Photog

Here’s some old blogs featuring tales from Clyde’s boyhood:

Clyde and The Rabbit Who Came For Dinner (Blog title: Fishing with Clyde)

Now I'm off to meet other's muses who, I'm sure, will be more cultured.


  1. You're right. Darrion's amused. But then, he is secretly the sort who likes to watch the world burn. ;-)

  2. Hahaha that was brilliant! I loved how you incorporated some of the other participants, too!
    Thanks for coming to my party! Hopefully it hasn't been too traumatizing...

  3. I had a Life Is Good T-shirt. Bought it many years ago when we lived in Colorado, where life was good >:)

    Cold As Heaven

  4. Mmm, Kraft Surprise (did I just say mmm?) Sounds like Clyde would be, uh, very interesting to talk to! I foresee some great arguments later tonight (perhaps about Milli Vanilli? That would be fun.)

  5. That was super clever and very entertaining. I'm not sure if even my muse could turn him around. She could attack him with a bar of soap. She has wings. He might not see her coming.

    And thanks for including me. That was fun! I liked the reference to my series/disaster. Nice touch! BRAVO! :D

  6. I found myself rubbing my noise for the stench and wondering why someone would be so rude to come dirty and smelly to a party, and why in the world she brought him, I'm thinking we all need to go to a different party and leave Mr. Jerk how many people can I "piss off" alone. You're writing is very entertaining and visual.

  7. (Passes out clothespins) It's all right, Tamara. We all have embarrassing friends.

  8. Mac and cheese and spam? Disgusting. I'm not telling him what the Kargrandes are now!

    1. Aww, nuts. Well, at least he didn't bring pickled pig's feet!

  9. I'm going to stay upwind from Clyde. Way, way upwind.

  10. Awesome post! Very fun. It was a creative idea to talk to some of the other guests, too.

  11. LOL Nice to meet your muse. Mine is getting evil ideas of shenanigans with him.

  12. Will Scarlet coughs like he's dying. "That-- (*cough, hack!*) that stuff in the fridge (*hack, wheeze!*)... God, why'd you let me knock a whole mug?!"

    Live and learn or don't and die.

    He sniffles and wipes his streaming eyes on his sleeve. "That second option sounds more style. Thanks for the kick to the esophagus, Clyde. I'll have to get the recipe."

  13. Oh my word--spam! Haha! You've really thought this character through:)

  14. You know you love him really, well he's not going anywhere anyway! I have never knowingly had Spam, but definitely not going to have it with mac and cheese.

  15. Dudette, I'm lovin' Clyde!! He's a real charmer, though your right he could have used a bath before the party. Still, I love his stories, quick whit and smirky smile! Thanks for inviting him along! You should have seen Patricia's face when he asked her for a dance! I thought she'd "blow" right there and ruin another good suit! Lisa @

  16. Clyde and I would be perfect dates, lol. I'd even try his hooch, if I was already drunk.

  17. that's fantastic! what a personality, with a capital T!
    we will have a great time chatting it up with you guys!

  18. Now I'm glad I don't have a muse. You can keep yours.

  19. Bahahahaha I'm sure Sarah loved her little.. err... serenade..
    I'll pass on the alcohol concoction. *wrinkles nose*

  20. This made me laugh. My Muse is also not generally good company at a party, but that's a story for another day. I think yours is adorable!

  21. And I thought my muse could be ornery. But hey, at least they're never boring!

  22. Ha! He's awesome! I want to fish with Clyde!
    Well done.

  23. LOL!! I loved this. Your muse is, um, quite unique ;) Fun blogfest, everyone!


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